There isn’t a single bit of snow to measure on the ground. Well, I managed to find some in the shadows of our house, or on the icy Vallecito nordic trails, but when I look outside, I don’t think of January in Colorado, I think of a March/April, of the spring time, where the snow is melting, things are going to start turning green….but no, we really ARE in January. I haven’t accepted this. I haven’t had my time off the bike where I can go ski, possibly for hours, and stare at the stillness of the woods and purity of the whitest snow any eyes have seen.
I started skiing before I started riding. It was in 8th grade when I put my first pair of nordic skis on, and the first race I did, I got 10th place, and my coach didn’t believe me, nonetheless, accused me of “cheating”, which most definitely was not true. I kept skiing, but I also kept playing basketball. At the age of 13, I was a 4 sport athlete. But it wasn’t long after I started skiing that no other sport really mattered.
There is something about being on skis, gliding, traveling deep into the woods, and being alone, or being with another person who appreciates it for how you see it. It became something for me to do, to escape the daily world. It was never work, it was never a chore, and it was never inconvenient to stay up until 2 in the morning waxing. It kept me sane. It developed dreams past what I thought I could dream. And it gave me an appreciation for nature like I had never had before.
It is because of this, that when I look outside and I don’t see snow, when I realize I have to accept the fact that I might not ever see snow this winter, that part of me dies, knowing that skiing on rocks, dirt, and ice is what I might have to settle for. The winters of going to West Yellowstone MT are long gone behind me, but the memories don’t ever really fad. That feeling of floating across a sea of white, hearing the ski move across the snow, and having tears roll down your cheats when you fly down a steep descent….
So now, I am asking you to do a little snow dance, to say a few prayers, and help mother nature hear my desperate plea for snow. I have 103 days until I leave Durango, and I really want another february like 2010. Bring back the snows of West Yellowstone, and help me gain my sanity again.